Twist of Fate
by AmandaCJY
Summary: Draco finds Hermione after the fall of Voldemort with the intent of apologising to her and gettting her forgiveness for not saving her from the events at his house. He finds a woman who's in a way, as broken as he is. Can they help each other? D/Hr
1. Prologue

Summary:Draco Malfoy ran away after the defeat of Voldermort, but he desperately wants to apologize to Hermione Granger for being unable to save her when she was tortured in the Malfoy Manor. When he finds her, he finds out she is as broken as he is. He tries to help her get back up again and a secret relationship develops between the both of them. Can their love survive the odds?

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Prologue

Flames. Flashes. Screaming.

Everything was such a blur. He awkwardly tried to sit up after colliding with the wall opposite the Room of Requirement. His mind swirled. The bright orange flames were taunting him, licking at the corners of his mind. Then, with a shuddering gasp, he realized that one of his friends was dead. Not that he cared about them remotely or anything; he just didn't need any more deaths in his life. He groaned and placed his head within his knees. He really couldn't care what was happening right now. Dimly, he heard someone yelling at him to get up but he could not, would not. Finally, a quiet female voice said: "Forget it Harry, he isn't worth it."

What was Potter trying to do? Stupid, noble Potter. The Boy-Who-Just-Won't- Frigging-Die. It was all because of him. Or rather, it was all because Tom Riddle stupidly chose to believe a ridiculous prophecy and made Potter what he was today. After a few moments, he shoved himself off the ground and stumbled all the way till the end of the hallway before hearing Voldemort's disembodied voice floating over Hogwarts grounds.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Great. There's no way Potter was going to let that happen. He was sure that Harry Bloody Potter would sacrifice himself before he let his friends die for him. He staggered down a winding staircase and just as he reached the second floor, he found himself face to face with a Death Eater. The silver mask so commonly seen on them obscured his face. The man's wand was up and pointing towards him. He realized that this man must have thought he was one of Potter's crew. His heart contracted with fear and ice-cold blood filled his veins. His throat was dry and parched. He wasn't sure what he should do, should he beg for mercy or should he just accept what fate had in store for him? He chose the latter for he had lived in fear and cowardice for such a long time, and he didn't wish to leave this world with those attributes. He closed his eyes, and waited.

"Avada-"

"Stupefy!"

The man's curse was cut off with a shout. He unfroze himself from his rigid stance and blinked, trying to look at the person who just saved his life.

Never in a million years had he expected that person to be Hermione Granger.

He stared at her in shock, trying to understand why she had did it. Her large brown eyes were staring at him; and not in disgust or hatred that he had assumed; rather, it was with confusion and a slight bewilderment. It was as if she was trying to figure him out. Her wand was now pointed at him. Oh great, if she decided she wanted to finish him off, then so be it. He knew she wanted to and he wouldn't blame her. He really wouldn't. Suddenly, she turned and pointed her wand towards the Death Eater, tied that man up before running away from the scene.

He stared at her retreating back; his jaw was wide open with shock. What had just happened? She couldn't kill him, or maybe she was just trying to save him for the wrath of Potter and the Weasel. But she would have at least immobilized him, wouldn't she? He pushed those thoughts out his mind for a while and made his slow ungainly way down to the Hogwarts Entrance. He stood there for a while, pondering about what he was going to do.

The battlefield was eerily silent except for a few stragglers trying to help the wounded. Glistening pools of blood stained the grass. The round full moon cast its silvery glow upon it all. The serenity and comfort normally promised by the moon vanished under the carnage strewn across the grounds. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and crept over to a dead body. He recognized Colin Creevey, an over enthusiastic Gryffindor with the hots for Potter. Even so, the sight of him, so still and unmoving chilled him to the core. He let a few tears slip out. He never wanted this, all the battles, all the pain, all the unwanted deaths. Looking down at Colin's body, he wished that he had never joined it all in the first place.

His trembling hands reached out and closed Colin's eyes. He mumbled his apologies and took the wand that was in Colin's grasp. He froze for a second as a small shuffling sound reached his ears. Glancing up, he saw no one. He looked in the direction of the sound and realized that there were several foot imprints in the grass heading in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"Potter and his cloak," he thought to himself.

He stood up from his crouched position and slowly moved after the person. Just when he thought he got close enough, he reached out, grasped a fistful of the shimmering material and pulled it off. Potter emerged, blinking slightly at him.

"Are you insane Potter?" He sneered. Sure, he may not have liked Potter very much, but to give in to this madman's demands would surely lead to the end of the Wizarding World as they knew it. Voldemort would be victorious. It was a future that he hated.

Potter stared coolly at him. "Why are you stopping me? Shouldn't you be dragging me by my feet to your great jackass Dark Lord? Who's the insane one now?"

"I don't like his methods," he mumbled, "and I'd rather you win than he did."

Potter appeared shocked at this. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish before he composed himself and spat: "I have to do this. I can't let anyone else die for me. It wouldn't be right!"

"It's suicidal."

"If that's what it does to keep everyone safe, I will do it." Potter stared directly into his eyes, as if daring him to contradict he said.

"You think he's going to let your friends go after he has killed you? No! He's just going to come back and torture and kill them. Think of your friends! Think of Granger for god's sake! She'd be the first to go! You'd think they would want you to do what you're doing now?" he ranted.

"YOU DON'T GET IT DO YOU! I HAVE TO DO THIS!" Potter yelled.

Realizing that trying to stop Potter was futile, he threw the cloak at him before stalking off. His hand was tightening around Creevey's wand.

"Where do you think you're going then?"

"Somewhere, Potter. Somewhere."

He turned around to look and realized Potter was gone again. He sighed and realised that he had better leave before it was too late. He strode silently down to the Hogwarts gates and slid out between the broken bars. Turning around, he stared at the silhouette of Hogwarts. Sadness rolled over him in waves. Granger's face flashed across his mind again with that look on her face when she saved him. He didn't deserve it. He only hoped that the day would arrive when he was able to buck up his courage and correct that. He took a deep breath, visualized the location in his mind and was gone with a solid pop.

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The first chapter will be up in the next few days. Thanks for reading. Please review.


	2. Tyrant

**Chapter 1: Tyrant**

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"I'll stay with apathy I'm blind but I can see

The tyrant to the bone

I'll stay with apathy I'm blind but I can see

Don't justify me, don't justify me, don't justify me

Don't justify me, justify, justify me."

OneRepublic (Tyrant)

* * *

One month after the Battle. 

"_Draco," the voice whispered silkily into his ear, "Do it my boy. Prove your allegiance to me." _

_Draco scrunched up his eyes, trying to block out the images of the prisoner sprawled in front of him. His mind desperately trying to shut out the pitiful moans coming from all corners of the dungeon. He raised a trembling hand and directed the wand to the frail old man in front of him. He knew he needed hatred to make this work. He didn't feel any such feelings toward that man. Instead, he thought about how much he hated himself and all that he had done. _

"_Crucio!" _

_A flash erupted and screams echoed in the chamber. _

Draco abruptly sat up in his bed. Sweat covered his face and body and his shirt was soaked. He flinched, as the screams seemed to continue even though he was awake. He pushed his long blond fringe out of his eyes and directed his eyes to the small alarm clock by his bedside.

Great. It was only 6.30am in the morning. It was just bloody fabulous.

Knowing that he was unable to get back to sleep now. He stretched to work out the kinks in his back. He placed his feet on the ground and sat on the edge of the bed while rubbing his temples, the nightmares were getting worse day by day. Each one was an act of his sins. Each and every one was an act that damaged his soul beyond repair. He believed he was beyond salvation.

He gritted his teeth and strode into the bathroom. After a quick shower, his mind was clearer. Tugging some jeans and jumper on, he moved towards the kitchen, thinking that a coffee and some painkillers were a great way to start the morning.

His house elf, Arick, pushed a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet into his hands as he took a step into the kitchen.

"Thank you." He offered the house elf a small smile before he strode out onto the porch that went around the small house. He settled down onto a wicker chair and placed the items on the small table beside it. He stared at the glorious view around him. The house opened up to a beautiful, secluded beach. The sun was just spreading its colorful rays across the dark midnight blue sky. It was as if the two were fighting each other - light against dark.

Draco sighed. He didn't know what to believe, think or do anymore. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do. Should he go back and turn himself in? He reflected over the past two months as he sipped his coffee.

One month ago.

_He landed on the beach with a pop. He looked up at the house before him. It was a quaint little cottage and the only one for miles. It was two stories high and it was painted white with a brown tiled roof. He shuddered as a cold breeze from the ocean buffeted him. He strode quickly into the house._

_The living room was furnished with a long extremely cushy sofa and a love seat before a fireplace. A painting of a manor was hung above the mantle. Draco plopped himself on the cushy sofa. He extracted an envelope from his pocket. He pulled out a worn creased letter. He knew every word, but he just needed to come to terms with what he had just done. _

'_Dear Draco, _

_Please understand that what we're doing this to ensure that you would be safe. We're sorry to have brought you into the cruel tyranny of the Dark Lord. It was the only way to ensure that we would survive. When possible, please run. Do not wait for us Draco. We know you are not destroyed. The wizarding world will turn on us once this war is over. They will throw you into Azkaban. My boy, you have not done anything wrong. You have been forced into this. However, the Wizengamot will not accept that. _

_Go to this cottage in France. It's near the ocean and it's secluded. Stay there until we contact you Draco. Please do not come back under any circumstances. A photograph of the cottage is enclosed so that you may apparate there. Leave before the Dark Lord falls. We're doing this because we love you. _

_With all our love, _

_Your father and mother.'_

_A few days after he arrived at the cottage, the Daily Prophet stated that his mother had died in the last few stages of the battle and his father was awaiting trial. Draco had cried, tears silently streaking down in his pale face. He had loved his mother; she was a source of comfort and love in the dark times under Voldermort. He knew that she sent him here to protect him, but he didn't know how much longer he could live with the guilt that, maybe, just maybe, she would have lived if he hadn't decided to run. It weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he'd adopted the stance of one marginally older than his 17 years. _

_He'd waited, day and night, for something to guide him. He looked for any sign, but none came. _

Present Day

He peered at the Daily Prophet. A large photo of Hermione Granger took up the space with the headline: 'Brains of Golden Trio Retreats from the Wizarding World'.

He quickly read the article beneath it.

'Hermione Granger, the brains of the golden trio, has seemingly vanished from the Wizarding World. Miss Granger has not been spotted anywhere and sources close to her have said that they have not seen her in the past few weeks. When we approached the famous hero, Harry Potter himself, he brushes aside questions with a curt: "I respect Hermione's wishes for space, and I do hope that you can do so too."…'

His brow furrowed. Why did she leave? His mind unwillingly flashed back to almost two months ago:

"_Crucio!" _

_Her screams reverberated throughout the room. Her limbs were contorted into painful, awkward positions. Tears dripped onto the marble floor. He stared at it all, his heart clenching and unclenching painfully. His aunt cackled and jumped gleefully. _

_She glanced at him from her prone position on the floor when she'd finally stopped shivering with those warm brown eyes that were laced with pain and underneath it all, a silent plea for help. He stared at her, willing his face to not reveal anything, even though all he wanted to do was to place his arms around her and protect her from the world around them. His mind struggled against his heart._

_His aunt would turn him to the Dark Lord if he did anything, and the Dark Lord would go after his family and him. He needed to protect his mother. He kept repeating that in his head as Aunt Bellatrix threw curse after curse at Granger. What was she to him anyway? He didn't associate with her. He shut his eyes as Bellatrix pulled a thin silver blade from her robe. _

"_Now Mudblood, tell me why do you hold the sword of Gryffindor when it is supposed to be safely in my vault?" She spat on Granger._

_Granger whimpered as the blade came closer and closer to her throat._

"_Please no. Please. We found it. PLEASE!" Her voice became a shriek at the end._

"_You don't deserve mercy. You filthy scum." Bellatrix sneered. She slowly carved out the term 'Mudblood' on Granger's arm. Granger cried out repeatedly in pain, tears streaming down her face while she struggled but Bellatrix had her pinned down._

_He opened his eyes to see her looking at him, again. This time the anger and frustration were replacing the desperation and the plea for help before. He didn't blame her. He'd be mad at himself too. For just standing there and letting this happen. He glanced at his mother in the corner. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head. He couldn't do anything without the repercussions falling on them. All the while, she kept screaming, the shrill inhuman cries filling his mind. _

He jolted back into reality, realizing that he'd been lost in reminiscing for almost an hour, and his coffee had gone cold. He peered again at the photo of Hermione who was smiling and waving at him from the paper and decided that he should do something. And that something involved apologizing to her. Maybe that would lessen some of the guilt in his heart and correct some of his sins. Then he'd turn himself in.

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I'll see you guys in a week. Thanks for the lovely reviews for the first chapter.

Drop a review before you leave. Thanks.


	3. Broken

**Chapter 2: Broken**

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"I am outside

And I've been waiting for the sun

With my wide eyes

I've seen worlds that don't belong

My mouth is dry with words I cannot verbalize

Tell me why we live like this

Keep me safe inside

Your arms like towers

Tower over me

Yeah

'Cause we are broken

What must we do to restore

Our innocence

And oh, the promise we adored

Give us life again

'Cause we just wanna be whole"

Paramore (We Are Broken)

* * *

Hermione shivered as she sat nestled on the couch in the living room of her parent's house in muggle London. She gripped the handle of the mug she was holding tightly, trying to hold on to some sense of normalcy, but as she stared at the checkered rug beneath the coffee table, memories flooded her mind and the sobs wracked her body again.

What was she doing? She couldn't lie to herself; she knew she was breaking apart, falling down, vanishing under waves of grief and sorrow. She stood up, set the mug down and angrily brushed the tears from her face. No, she had to be strong. They would have wanted that. She walked over to the mantel where several family photos were displayed. She stared at one that involved her family and her. Each of their faces had big grins. The love that they shared was clearly palpable. She stroked the glass, as if she could indeed feel their faces under her hands again. She placed a small kiss on her father's face, then her mother's.

Her life felt twisted and warped. The brief sense of victory she felt after the fall of Voldermort vanished after the realization that her parents were dead, that thought left trails of coldness and numbness in her mind.

She recalled the day when Kingsley Shacklebolt, the tall and brooding auror, strode in to Number 12, Grimmauld Place. His eyes radiated weariness and a desperate plea that was directed towards her, as if he were begging for her forgiveness. Her brow had furrowed as she wondered what happened. Ron and Harry sank into an uncomfortable silence beside her. Then Kingsley had opened his mouth, and that was when she knew.

"I'm sorry Hermione. We tried our best, but they…"

Her world had tilted upon its axis, and her legs wobbled before she crashed to the floor. Harry and Ron had crouched down instantly beside her. Harry was mumbling something and Ron was rubbing soothing circles on her back but she couldn't hear or feel anything. Her vision was blurred from the tears that filled her eyes. As she stared off into space, images gradually flashed across her mind. The gentle touch of her mother's hand as she took her first few steps. Her father's soothing words whenever she felt like she had not lived up to their expectations. Her mother holding her when she had broken down and cried due to stress. They would never smile at her again. Never congratulate her for getting the top of her year again. Never give her the warmth that only families could provide. Her life. Her family. Gone.

Regret flooded her being as she realized that they had left this world without even remembering about her, their daughter. She expected, even yearned for the tongue-lashing she would receive, as they understood that their only daughter had erased their memories and sent them to Australia, at least that would mean that they were alive. Breathing, happy and whole.

After that, she didn't believe she could live at Grimmauld Place anymore. Harry and Ron were jumpy and nervous around her, treating her like a fragile piece of glass, trying to console her but her cool demeanor rebuffed their attempts. One night, when Ron had hugged her tightly and said that she could talk to him about anything and that he was feeling upset because of her attitude towards him. She had glared, her mind reeling. Ron, unlike her, sought out comfort from others when he suffered from grief, but she retreated into her own world. His insensitivity caused her to slam her bedroom door in his face, reviling slightly in the slight crunch and muffled curse behind the door.

She strode around the room and shoved her few items into her suitcase. She transfigured a chair into a carrier for Crookshanks before gently pushing her cat in. Crookshanks had hissed, but she didn't respond except to shut the door to the carrier. She tapped her wand on her suitcase and it shrunk to a small size before she pushed it into her cloak. After casting a cursory look around the room that she had lived in for the last few days, she grabbed Crookshanks's carrier and strode out, lightly shutting the door behind her. When she walked into the living room, Harry and Ron both jumped off the couch.

"Hermione…" They both said simultaneously.

Then Harry noticed her outfit and the carrier that she was clutching tightly in her left hand.

"Going somewhere?" he said softly.

Hermione wavered for a second, but hardened her resolve.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I need to be alone. I can't have you guys hovering around me all the time. I need time to process it all. Everything…" her voice trailed off into silence.

Ron's face had turned a slight pinkish colour and as she noticed the dark purplish bruise developing on his nose, and she realised that was what the crunch was. She wondered if he felt guilty about his actions earlier. She didn't know and as she realized with alarming clarity, she didn't care. Perhaps it was all the grief, or maybe it was because she didn't feel anything towards him anymore. She sighed and shook her head. This was why she needed time alone - to process every thought.

Harry stepped forward with his hand reaching towards her.

"Don't try to stop me Harry, nothing you do or say will change my mind. Please give me the time I need. I'm not leaving you. I promise I will come back." She pleaded with him.

Harry nodded solemnly. "I'm not trying to stop you Hermione. I just wanted to give you a hug before you go. Who knows when I'll be seeing my best friend again huh?" He laughed slightly and the side of her lip curled up into a small smile.

She leaned forward and met him halfway. His arms tightened around her for a second before he whispered in her ear: "Take all the time you need." He pulled back and his green eyes flashed with a quiet understanding. She silently expressed her gratitude as she pulled him in for another hug. Pulling back, she gave him a small peck on his cheek. She then extended her arms toward Ron and he gratefully hugged her. He kissed her forehead as he let go of her waist. He didn't seem to know what to say and for once, she was grateful, she wasn't sure how she'd respond if he did.

And that was how she'd left them nearly a month ago. Harry and Ron standing at the end of the hallway. One who was tall with messy jet black hair, the other red-haired and freckled, both staring at her as she exited the door and out of their lives.

She had immediately returned to her parent's house. The moment she laid eyes on it, she thought it looked so cold and uninviting - devoid of life. She strode into it, gasping and choking as the dust that covered the room filled her lungs. With a determined look in her eyes, she spent the next few days cleaning up the house. It provided a welcome distraction, from the war, her parent's death, everything.

She turned now and glanced at the side table where several letters were piled up. Most of it had Ron's identifiable scrawl on it. The reason why she chose not to respond to his letters was because most of it was be begging her to come back to them. Harry's letters were fewer and less frequent, but he didn't bring up the issue of where she was or what she was doing and for that she was grateful.

Several days after she had arrived at her parent's home, she arranged for their bodies to be sent back to London from Australia and organized a private funeral at a cemetery several miles from her house. She grudgingly allowed Ron and Harry to attend at their insistence. Harry had felt guilty, blaming himself and the war for doing that to her parents. She had objected vehemently and assured him that these things could hardly be predicted or stopped and that she had not regretted being his friend at all. They had parted ways on that dreary fall day in a solemn silence.

She didn't say anything about her nightmares to them then.

They flowed, vivid and fast, into her mind night after night, arousing her from her slumber and causing her to tremble uncontrollably. It was as though the events had just occurred the day before. Images of the war were burned into the back of her mind. Dead bodies strewn everywhere, blood seeping into the already blood-red earth and the occasional bursts of green light illuminating the gloom. The most unnerving one was the one she experienced firsthand, the curse after curse that was lobbed at her. It was as if her veins had caught fire and her limbs were forcibly twisted in opposite directions. Her heart had pounded with difficulty, trying it's hardest to continually pump blood through her body. There was also the flash of cold silver eyes, just staring down at her without bothering to help and his eyes closing shut when the silver blade appeared…

She usually jerked awake then, with her body aching and sore, a clear sign that she had been thrashing around during her sleep. And no methods could bring her back to sleep again, and she didn't want to, for the dreams always repeated. It was like a never-ending cycle. One that was causing her precious sleep and the dark circles that had taken up permanent residence under her eyes.

That night, as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror yet again, she noticed her pale skin, dark purplish circles under her eyes and her now prominent cheekbones due to the weight she had lost. Her hair was tangled and unruly, sticking up in a dozen directions. She sighed and splashed cold water onto her face, and all the while wondering what she was going to do with her life now.

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This story has been getting many hits so far. Thanks for your support. I wished i'd got more reviews though.

Things will start to get more interesting from next chapter onwards!

Please leave a review on your way out.

_AmandaCJY_


	4. Searching for that Someone

**Chapter 3: Searching for that Someone

* * *

**

Honesty

Is what you need

It sets you free

Like someone to save you

Let it go

But hurry now

There's undertow

And I don't want to lose you now

All right

Sit down and spill your heart

Lets start from the very start

Cause I can see by your eyes

You're wasted

Your energy comes and goes

You taking your time, you know

Nothing can change what happened, so

Back to the start now

I won't let you go this way now

One Republic (Someone to save you)

* * *

A shadow rippled in the alleyway. The figure slid closer to the red shiny telephone booth tucked out of sight on a street corner. Crowds of people ebbed and flowed in the distance and the occasional muffled discordant noise reached his ears. One or two people would occasionally appear directly in front of the red booth, dressed in robes, but none of the members of the public would take note of these rather odd facts.

Draco stood shrouded in the shadows, except for his silvery grey eyes, which were currently glinting in the stream of sunlight that had somehow managed to sneak its way in. His hands were trembling and his throat was parched. Doubt had woven itself into the fiber of his being. Was he able to do this? And most importantly, would he be able to get out of there without raising the alarm?

He nervously withdrew a wand from within his cloak pocket. After breathing in several deep breaths, he managed to calm himself enough to mutter a few incantations under his breath to change his eye color from grey to a light blue and his blonde hair to a dark brown. On an afterthought, he decided to change his skin color to a light tan. Might as well be thorough right?

Shoving his doubt into the mental trash bin of his mind, he took confident steps from the alleyway and into the bright red phone booth. He hesitated slightly before pressing several numbers onto the keypad. He held the receiver to his ear and waited. Within a few seconds, a female voice asked: "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. What is your business here today?"

Draco quickly reiterated the lie that he had decided on.

"I have an appointment with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement."

A nametag clattered out onto the tray beneath the phone. He picked it up and noticed the gold printed letters that spelled out 'GUEST' on it.

"Please pin the tag on your robes and head to the side desk of the atrium to allow us to check your wand when you arrive. Thank you."

With a groan of metal, the booth moved downwards into the broad atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Crowds of witches and wizards moved in every direction at once. Most looked hurried and frazzled as they rushed from place to place.

"You'd think Voldermort hadn't died yet with the way they are acting," Draco mused.

He quickly ducked out of the way of one particularly frenzied witch carrying a bundle of files. He caught muttered phrases as she passed: "Oh dear god… I'd better get this to… Potter is going to be so mad."

Draco chuckled internally. How could anyone be scared of Potter? Everyone's treating him like a saint now, as if he'd dropped out of heaven and graced everyone with his awesome presence. Maybe it's because of that, he mused. He quickly righted himself as he realized he'd probably been standing there for a good minute, smiling into thin air.

He tried to put the appearance of someone on his way to a business meeting and strode over to the desk at the side of the atrium that had a sign: 'Please hand over your wand for inspection' in front. He reached into his cloak and pulled out the wand that wasn't his. He was well aware of that fact, but the young witch in front of him didn't. She placed it on a small weighing scale. A small note popped out instantly from the machine.

"12-inches. Made with yew with a unicorn tail hair core. Is that correct?" She read out before glancing at him.

He quickly nodded his assent and she passed his wand back to him. With a slight wave of her hand she dismissed him and called the next person behind him forward.

A smirk graced his face as he quickly moved to the elevators. He slid into one just as it was closing and ended up with, of all the blasted magical folk, Saint Potter and the Weasley. He stifled a groan into a coughing fit. Potter looked at him with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Er… Yes."

He quickly jabbed the elevator button for the 8th floor. Weasley just eyed him with a weird look. He cast a quick glance over their robes. The auror symbol was emblazoned on their right chests. He didn't quite expect the Ministry to give them positions when they hadn't even technically graduated in the first place.

"You guys are aurors huh?" He tried to phrase his question as innocently as possible.

Potter looked down at the symbol, as if just realizing it was there, before glancing up. He nodded. His bright green eyes seemed to be scrutinizing him. Draco shivered slightly.

"Aren't you a bit young to be one? I'm not trying to be nosey here, I'm just rather curious…"

"We're taking our auror training in whilst studying for our N.E.W.T's."

The Weasley has spoken.

Draco nodded slowly, as he processed that in his head. The ministry was clearly desperate to pull Potter into their good graces.

After another few seconds of uncomfortable silence, the elevator pinged and a cool voice said: "Level 8. Ministry Records."

Draco jerked and quickly headed out whilst muttering a quick "Nice to meet you guys" over his shoulder.

As the door slid silently shut behind him, he heard Weasley talking to Potter.

"That guy was rather odd wasn't he?"

He glanced around the hallway, noticing that it was rather quiet, which was actually not surprising. Hardly anyone ever came up here unless they were looking for information, or in his case, the location of a particular bushy haired woman. He strode down the hallway, glancing at the doors on his left and right, after realizing that the doors were marked in alphabetical order he quickly found the door that was marked with a single solid brass plated 'G'.

Pushing the door open, and towering shelves filled with papers and folders entered his vision. He released a low groan as he observed the stacks. This was going to take awhile.

He was halfway down an aisle before he realized that he had a wand and that in fact, he was a wizard. It baffled him why he had never thought of it in the first place before he summoned Granger's folder. A thick file slipped out of the shelves two rows from where he was and sped towards him. He snatched it out of the air and opened it.

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Gender: Female_

_Date of Birth: 19 September 1979_

_House: Gryffindor_

_Parentage: Muggleborn _

_Parents: Edward & Andrea Granger_

_Current highest level of education: O.W.L._

A photograph was attached to the folder. It was clearly the one from the Yule Ball in the fourth year. The year when people realized that Granger could possibly be (for lack of a better word) hot. The Granger in the photograph smiled and waved at him. The next few pages detailed her accomplishments and exploits at Hogwarts. He reached the end where a new page was added.

_The parents of Ms Granger have been found dead in their apartment in Australia on the 15__th__ May 1998. The investigation has revealed this to be the act of several Death Eaters still on the run_.

Draco noted the photos attached. He shuddered at the dreadful scene of Granger's parents lying prone on the floor.

This was why she left the Wizarding World. In addition to what he did to her… it would send anyone for a nervous breakdown. He saw another addition towards the bottom of the page.

_Current whereabouts of Ms Granger: Unknown_

He frowned. This was likely to be difficult. He mulled over in his head the places she could have gone to. Since she was not staying with Potter or the Weasley, could have gone to her parent's house? Or would that have been too much for her? After pondering for a while, he decided to start the search at her parent's house in London first. He ruffled the pages of the folder again as he tried to find an address. Finally he found a page with the address written on it. He ripped the page out and shoved it into his cloak pocket. Shoving the folder back onto the shelves, he quickly retreated from the room and headed back down the elevator.

Once out of the elevator, he exited the Ministry quickly and retreated into the alleyway once more. He pulled out the crumpled page and repeated the apparition coordinates in his mind before he left with a virtually silent pop.

He appeared in front of a bungalow. It was only then did he realize that the sun had begun to set. The golden evening rays flooded the rather unkempt front yard. There were no flowers and the weeds were rampant. He noted the soft glow of light in one of the windows. His heart rate accelerated and the loud thumping drowned out all other sounds. His stomach seemed to keep falling. He never had much experience with apologizing to anyone and he knew, deep down, that this apology was the one that mattered most. She could provide the key to helping him turn around and change his life and what he thought of himself. Right now, he didn't believe himself to be more than anything but the scum of the earth with all the crimes he had committed. This was one act that he could hopefully change.

He gulped before he pushed open the creaking gate that led into the yard. The air had seemingly frozen in his lungs and he was struggling to breathe. Damn Gryffindors were always much better at this sort of things. His footsteps caused the gravel under his feet to crunch slightly as he approached the door. After a slight hesitation, he raised his hand and rapped on the door.

There was a muffled thump and a curse before he heard the person rapidly moving towards the door. The door slid open.

"Malfoy?"

"Hi Granger."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I know it's been two weeks since my last update! I'll be back to updating weekly from next week onwards. _

_This is my christmas present to all of you. Have a merry christmas! _

_AmandaCJY_


	5. Is There Anyone Out There?

**Chapter 4: Is There Anybody Out There?**

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* * *

**

"Tell me

Is there anybody out there,

Am I swimming through this empty sea alone,

Am I looking for an answer

Or am I trying to find a way to get back home.

Is there anybody out there,

Would you hear me if I screamed or if I cried,

I'm looking for an answer

And just trying to find a way to survive."

Secondhand Serenade (Is There Anyone Out There?)

* * *

Have you ever felt guilt so heavy that it weighed upon your soul? It festers, it lingers and it breeds till you feel it every day, every hour and every second. There was the possibility that the guilt may never leave you, but if such an opportunity should appear, wouldn't you grab onto it and hold on, never to let go? Those were the thoughts that plagued Draco Malfoy for the past month, and were now brought forward by that one person, who could offer such a salvation.

"Malfoy?"

"Hi Granger."

"What… what the hell are you doing here?" she spat.

"I needed to talk to you," he mumbled. This wasn't going well.

"Talk! You came here to talk?" Her voice rose through several decibels. She placed a hand on her chest in an attempt to soothe herself. When Draco remained silent, she choked out: "What makes you think I would want to listen to anything that you say?"

Draco fixed his eyes on his shoes. He knew she hated him, possibly to his very core, but he wanted, no, needed to get her to listen to him. He signed and ran a hand through his hair. He finally tore his eyes away from his shoes and looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Because it will save both of us."

She froze slightly and her eyes widened in shock. It was clear she had not expected that response. He could see hesitation and curiosity battling it out in the depths of her eyes. She shook her head slightly, then as if settling some internal debate. She looked back at him and narrowed her eyes slightly before she nodded whilst opening the door wider to allow him to enter.

Draco slid into the house, brushing past her. He noticed how she froze at that contact like a frightened animal, before the calm controlled visage took over again. He hesitated in the hallway, unsure of his actions next. Hermione locked the door behind him before she led him to the living room. He noticed books scattered around the room, the blanket that was thrown haphazardly over the couch, and several dirty dishes that lay piled on the coffee table. He didn't expect such disarray with Hermione Granger. It didn't feel right. Glancing down, he realized that a mug was currently lying on its side on the floor with its contents spilled all over a rug, not to mention a huge book was laying beside it, it's pages splayed wide open. Hermione quickly waved her wand, cleaning up the mess and replacing the mug back on a shelf. She picked up the book and quickly smoothed down the corners and placed it gingerly back on the table. It was such a normal behavior for her that Draco almost smirked, but managed to hold back at the last second.

As she turned back towards him, he took that opportunity to really observe her. She looked terrible. Not like he was ever going to tell her that. Her hair now hung limp on her shoulders. Her eyes seemed tired and worn out, the flicker in them long gone. Her figure was thin, scarily so, as if she'd been starved for the past month. In short, she looked like she was dead; all the life had been sucked out of her. She sighed as she appraised him as well before she gestured over to the couch. He quickly sat down. She pulled up a chair and sat opposite him, the coffee table between them.

"Talk," she said.

Draco clenched and unclenched his hands. Now that he was here. He wasn't sure how to start. He ran his hands through his hair before he covered his face.

"I just would like to say I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I didn't catch that."

He cleared his throat, sat up straight and looked her right in the eyes and said again: "I'm sorry."

Her brow furrowed. "For what exactly?"

Was she actually that daft? He wondered before he figured she was trying to make me spell out what he had actually done to her, that perhaps she wanted himto really understand the pain that he'd put her through. Now it was his turn to sigh.

"I'm sorry for telling Bellatrix who you were at the Malfoy Manor. I'm sorry for not being able to do anything while she used the unforgivable on you many times. I'm sorry for being such a coward and not saving you and protecting you when she tortured…I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you from the pain…You had no idea how much I wanted to-"

"Please… stop," she choked out.

He paused the rather long and rapid flow of words from his mouth to pay attention to her. Her eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to overflow. Her face was contorted into a grimace, one of pain. In the whole time that he was talking she had curled herself up into a ball and was currently rocking herself back and forth.

Watching her, his heart clenched in pain, this wasn't Hermione Granger, the strong tough woman that he'd known from Hogwarts. This was a broken shell.

He didn't realize what he was about to do until the second before he did it. He reached out his arm to wrap her in a hug but just as his hand touched her shoulder she flinched and jerked away. Fear flashed momentarily in her eyes. He gulped and dropped back down into his seat.

Hermione glared at him as hot boiling rage started to flood her veins. Who gave him the right to barge in here and to remind her of all this… pain? The wounds were still fresh and painful. She never tried to heal or move on, because she knew it would be futile as long as there were people like Draco Malfoy around to remind her of it. The unforgivables were fresh in her mind again. She fisted the hair at the sides of her head, as if she could physically rip the memory out of her mind. A low moan filled the room and it was only a few moments later that she realized it was her that made the pitiful sound. She looked at Draco again. Guilt, pain and sadness lingered in his silver eyes. She hissed under her breath. Those silver eyes never bode well.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House." She punctuated each word with a poke to his chest. "And don't ever think about coming back."

Malfoy continued to stare at her.

"Didn't you hear me? I said get out! GET OUT!" She started picking up random items from the house and throwing it at him. Fortunately for him but unfortunately for her, her aim was pretty off because of her state.

He watched nonchalantly as a vase shattered to the side of him. Inside, he was rapidly trying to think of ways to convince her to let him stay and perhaps comfort her. He needed to get some form of forgiveness from her. That was why he was here in the first place. Seeing her this broken and destroyed, and knowing that he was partly a cause for it did wonders for his mentality. Really, it did. More guilt was being shoved upon him by the sackful, but a new ingredient was added to the mix - hate for his being and all he did. And he accepted it all, every single last bit of it because he knew he deserved it.

By now, she had given up throwing things at him and instead she had moved on to ranting.

"Why did you come back Malfoy? Why? So you could continue to torture me even after Lord Voldermort has kicked the bucket? Have you come back to savor your victory huh? I'm not who I am anymore, I'm broken, I'm destroyed and I bet that makes you happy! And how exactly do you plan on 'saving' us as you said?" At this point she made air quotes. "I bet you didn't even meant your apology."

Draco could feel the tide of anger rising within him. She didn't understand his intentions and had jumped to conclusions. He gritted his teeth and said: "I meant every last part of it. And you don't even know why I'm actually doing this."

Hermione paused, silent tears streaming down her face.

"I don't believe you."

She turned and strode off into her bedroom. The slam of the door echoed down the hallway. Draco placed his head into his hands and let out a frustrated growl. This was not going well.

**00000**

Hermione collapsed onto her bedroom bed as the pain lacerated through her chest again. She curled herself up into a ball, wrapping her arms around herself in her bid to keep her heart from shattering into pieces. She tried to choke back the tears and took several deep breaths. Seeing him in her living room just brought back a flood of unpleasant and bitter memories. And all those lies that he said… She grabbed a pillow off her bed and threw it at the door. It hit the door with a soft thump before it slid to the floor. She cried herself out for what seemed like forever until she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

**00000**

Draco heard something hit her bedroom door. He raised one eyebrow. Was she still trying to hit him from within her room? Fantastic, he thought bitterly. He eyed the damage around him, broken vases and objects littered the floor. He picked up his wand and with a wave, repaired the damage. He sank down into the cushions of her sofa. It wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go anyway.

The silence around him seemed so loud now. It was as if Granger's absence had sucked the life out of the room as well. He came to realize, with shuddering clarity, that he was alone - unequivocally, undeniably alone. There was no one he could turn to and no family to return to. There was no one who would be delighted to see him. Riding the coattails of that loneliness was a regret. What if he'd never joined the Dark Lord? What if he'd fought with Potter instead of against him? Images of his mother ran through his mind. He'd helped the Dark Lord to protect his mother, but now she was dead as well, and all his efforts seemed to be for naught.

He arranged one of the many cushions on her sofa underneath his head and as he felt the loneliness swamp his being, he let go and fell into a sleep fraught with nightmares.

* * *

**_A/N: There wasn't any reviews for the last chapter, which was a bit disappointing, but hopefully it's due to the fact that it was a holiday period and not due to the story. _**

**_I hope that this chapter would be one that you guys love and perhaps (fingers crossed!) you might leave a review on the way out? _**

**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_AmandaCJY_**


	6. Nightmares

**Chapter 5: Nightmares**

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* * *

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"I'll scream just to get your attention.

I have seen what happens to a lonely heart.

And I'll scream just to get your attention.

I have seen the nightmares that tore us apart."

Secondhand Serenade (Nightmares)

* * *

Hermione jerked awake from a restless sleep. The screams from the nightmare faded away as the fog of sleep cleared from her mind. She pushed herself up from the awkward position she was laying in. Puzzlement filled her mind. What had happened?

Then it all came back: the flash of silver-grey eyes that haunted her, that blur of white blonde hair and that slow dangerous smile. She pushed the covers off her and placed her legs over the side of the bed. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she heard an odd sound. Within a split second, adrenaline spiked through her and she was jolted into cold hard reality. She spun and grabbed her wand from under the pillow – she never slept without it near her ever since… no, she could not be distracted now. She slipped her legs into her fluffy slippers and shuffled over to her bedroom door. Leaning her head on the door, she tried to listen to what was going on outside.

The sound grew louder and she realized that it was a moan – a low strained one. A frown marred her forehead. Who was that? Was someone injured? She turned the doorknob slowly and edged out into the hallway. The house was dark with the exception of silver beams of moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Shadows lingered in every corner. Those were perfect places for hiding intruders. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as the moans started again. This time they were accompanied by a soft frenzied murmuring. She gulped and gripped her wand tighter as she traced the sound to her couch. There was something long and dark sprawled across it.

"_Lumos_," she muttered.

The dim light filled the room. There was a flash and she blinked before she realized the light had reflected off a particularly shiny surface – white blond hair. She knew who he was instantly, and moved her wand closer to his face. He appeared to be asleep, however, his brow was furrowed and his jaw was clenched and random noises spewed out from his mouth. She knew the signs; he was deep in the throes of a nightmare.

"No, no, please. Not her…take me. Please!" the last word came out a desperate plea.

Hermione froze. What was he dreaming about? She collapsed into a chair as she continued to survey him.

**00000**

_Draco surveyed the dim dark room. The Dark Lord had summoned him here after they had returned from Hogwarts. He knew that the time where he had pay for his repercussions had arrived, albeit at a time that was too early for his tastes. He struggled to push down the bile in his throat as he walked slowly forward to the dark polished marble chair at the end of the long table. The back of the chair was facing him. He paused a few steps away. After several seconds, he began to wonder if he should have announced his presence by a cough or such. _

"_Draco," the slithering voice emanated from the chair. _

_Draco suppressed a shudder. _

"_Yes, my lord," he said._

"_You have failed me Draco. Why were you unable to carry out my wishes? I specifically requested for you to kill Dumbledore, yet that job fell to Severus. Tell me Draco, why are you so weak?" With that the Dark Lord rose from his chair, he turned towards Draco in a smooth sudden motion, his wand already in his hand. _

"_If you can't kill… what's my purpose for keeping you around?" His voice was soft, dangerous now._

_Draco stared at the wand in the Dark Lord's hand. He shook. One wrong move and he would be wiped off the face of the earth in the most painful way. He fumbled around in his mind for an answer. _

"_I know how Harry Potter works. I can try to stop him," he whispered. Internally, he slapped himself for sounding so weak. _

"_What lies…"_

_As Draco wondered how to push himself out of the hole that he had dug himself into, the Dark Lord turned and shouted to a side door._

"_Bring her in!" _

_A hooded Death Eater appeared with someone in his grasp. That person was putting up a fight, kicking and scratching at their captor but to no avail; the Death Eater's grip was as tight as ever. The Death Eater threw the person down in front of the fireplace. The flickering flames illuminated the frame of the person. It was a woman. Blonde hair cascaded down, obscuring her face from his._

"_Draco…" she said, her voice soft and strained. _

_He froze as he stared at her. When her eyes rose to meet his, it confirmed her identity. _

_His mother._

_The Dark Lord watched the mother and son; something dark glittered in his red eyes. A slow smile perched on his thin lips. He directed his wand to the woman. _

"_Punishment must be made Draco, for despite what you might say, your failure is still there. Crucio!"_

_The woman shrieked and convulsed on the floor. Draco rushed forward and pulled his mother into his arms. She had bit her lips in an attempt to stop screaming and now they were bleeding furiously, the blood trailing down her chin. _

"_No, no, please. Not her…take me. Please!" He yelled. _

_The Dark Lord turned his blood red eyes to his. _

"_As you wish," he said in a matter of fact tone. _

_The wand was turned to him now, and he closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. _

**00000**

His moans escalated into him thrashing about on the couch with beads of sweat forming on his forehead, it was as if he was fighting some unseen opponent. Clearly the nightmare was becoming far worse, and Hermione panicked as she wondered if she should rouse him from his sleep. She reached out to brush the hair away from his forehead, an action her mother did whenever she had nightmares and somehow it always provided a sense of comfort.

The moans ceased slightly, but they were still there. She decided that waking him up would be the best option. She placed a hand on his arm and shook him slightly, gently calling his name.

He bolted up and pressed his body further into the cushions, trying to increase the distance between himself and an unseen enemy. His eyes were flickering in every which direction, and when he ascertained that there was no one else in the room other than her, he released a shuddering breath. He touched his face gingerly and Hermione noted his shaking hands.

After pushing the fringe out of his eyes, he turned to her and nodded.

She inclined her head in return. To her, he still looked haggard, pale and his eyes were haunted with visions. She wondered for a brief moment whether it would be rude of her to ask him about his dream before she noticed how his hand was gripping the blanket that was thrown across the couch tightly, the veins on the back of his hand were jutting out; the ominous greenish-blue prominent against his pale skin.

_Better not_, she mused.

She stood up and turned around, fully prepared to walk back to her bedroom when the oddity of the situation struck her. Draco Malfoy, a known Death Eater, was sleeping on her couch. She spins around with a scathing remark on the tip of her tongue but she was struck by the proximity of him. She didn't even hear him move, but there he was, no more than a few inches away from her. Her breaths grew more labored as her heart raced. His presence was intimidating and suffocating from this distance. His silver eyes held hers and she noticed the corners of his eyes tighten, as if he was about to smile but held back at the last second. Then she watched him raise his hand, slowly, so she could watch it and she clenched her eyes shut as his fingers barely brushed across her cheek.

"Thanks you, Hermione," he whispered.

Something felt like it was lodged in her throat. She turned and ran back to the safety of her room. Settling down on her bed again, she stared unblinkingly out the window till dawn, her fingers occasionally touching her cheek.

**00000**

When the first pink rays of the sun stretched its fingers across the inky black sky, she roused from the stupor she was in. Why did he have this sort of effect on her? It was ridiculous and downright disturbing. She vowed to put more distance between Malfoy and her as long as he was staying here. She barely bit back a groan then. What did she mean by him staying here? It wasn't as if she wanted him to stay. She gritted her teeth together. She needed answers out of him, and fast.

She pushed herself off her bed again and traipsed out into her living room, only to spot Malfoy lounging in one of the chairs before the island in her kitchen with the Daily Prophet in one hand. It was such a normal act that she had to blink her eyes several times to dispel the non-existent illusion. She walked forward and placed a kettle on the stove before reaching into a cupboard and grabbing a mug. After hesitating for a moment, she grabbed a second one.

While waiting for the water to boil, she prepared breakfast. Several moments later, she placed a plate of food and a mug of tea in front of him.

Draco paused as he eyed the food. He wondered why she was so nice to him after the little tirade last night. He slowly picked up a fork and nibbled on a piece of bacon.

"I still want answers Malfoy." Her voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked at her and noticed that the dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever.

"I didn't expect any less," he quietly replied. He recalled how soft her skin was under his fingers last night. He wasn't sure what compelled him to do that – to touch her – but it felt right. He silently waited as she finished her food and cleaned up before he followed her to the couch again. She plopped down, cradling her mug of tea in her hands and nodded for him to continue.

He faced her and searched through his mind till he found an appropriate place to start.

"I've never liked the Voldemort's methods. Did you know that?"

She surveyed him skeptically but didn't interrupt.

"When I was young, my father always said 'The Dark Lord will lead us to a whole new era and when he returns, we will believe in him'. Of course, being young and naïve at that time, I listened and followed everything he said to the letter. I didn't have many great role models when I was young, so I got sucked into this world of hatred, power and crazy-assed people almost willingly. They made me believe the idea of a pureblood society and, for awhile there, I was just as crazy as they were."

He drew a deep breath before he continued.

"But when I was eleven, everything changed."

One of Hermione's eyebrows quirked upwards in disbelief when he said that, she eyed him from a moment before she asked the burning question:

"What happened then?"

"I met you," he whispered.

Now both eyebrows had shot up and he continued to stare at them, it was quite fascinating really…

It wasn't until she waved her hand in front of his face that he realized she was waiting for him to give her an explanation.

"So, you were saying something about meeting…me?" She asked meekly.

He flushed a tomato red.

"At that time, I thought like my father did, that you were a mud-muggleborn," he tried to cover up the mistake with a cough, but she let it slide. "Anyway, I thought that you were inferior and beneath me then, and was thoroughly put in my place when you bested me in everything, except quidditch," he added.

She glared at him for a second. He ignored that and continued:

"Anyways, I realized that blood type didn't matter at all, we were all the same. All that mattered was if one put in effort or not, which, to be honest, I really tried my best, but you still kept beating me each year!" he gestured towards her as he said so.

The side of her lips twitched upwards with this. He appreciated the idea that he had made her smile, albeit a small one. He gave her a small smile in return before he continued his story.

**00000**

Hermione stared at the form of Draco Malfoy, her mind spinning. She didn't know what to make of this… situation. First of all, he shows up at her house trying to apologize to her but she didn't believe it, and she still didn't, in fact. No one could have altered their personality that rapidly in her opinion. Draco Malfoy, as far as she knew, didn't apologize to anyone unless there was something in it for him. Secondly, he said that he changed because of her? How could that be? She didn't even realize she'd held that much influence on him. Yet, how could he say he had changed when he still acted like an arrogant stuck-up idiot for the rest of their school years?

She shot him a glare when he insinuated she sucked at quidditch, which, she couldn't deny, she really did. In all honesty, she didn't know whether to be flattered that she was the reason for his change, especially when they were talking about her beating him in terms of studies. Well, she mused, at least it wasn't because he fell miraculously in love with her or something, that would be barking mad.

She quickly refocused when he resumed talking.

"As I was saying, I had to reassess my pureblooded views when you were beating me in every subject. I reflected long and hard about it, and eventually I decided I wouldn't listen to what my father or what any other pure blood bigots were saying."

"Yet you were still rude to me all those years. Why would you do that if you had changed?" She questioned.

"I had to keep up a front. My father was a very skilled legilimens and my defenses weren't particularly strong then. I kept my revelations deep within me of course, but if I started treating you nicely on a day-to-day basis, he would no doubt pick up on it almost instantly. The punishment wasn't of a very comfortable kind, if I may say so," he shut his eyes and turned away from her as if recalling it caused him great distress. She saw a slight tremor run through his being.

She hadn't expected that to say the least. Draco Malfoy being abused? The concept was rather hard to grasp. She flashed back to those moments in school. He had appeared to be enjoying himself in his pureblooded society, but then again, one could never judge a person by their cover. Her views on him were slowly being altered. Realizing that, she mentally slapped herself. How could she change her mind? He still was there when she was tortured, and when she begged him to help her, he did nothing at all. Nothing. But, as she looked at him, she knew when to drop the subject. Clearly, this was a difficult topic for him.

She jerked slightly when he spun around.

"I'm sorry. Just that this is all so hard," his voice broke towards the end.

Her breath stuck in her throat. This was Draco Malfoy at his most vulnerable moment; she never thought she'd witness it. His eyes were searching hers; they were laced with so much pain, hurt and anger. Somehow, at that moment she knew…

He was as broken as she was.

* * *

_A/N: What do you think of this chapter? Let me know by leaving a review!_

_I appreciate all the support and reviews for this story. It feels really great when someone leaves a review or adds this story to their favorites. It shows i'm going somewhere!_

___I recently published a one-shot for Harry/Hermione fans out there. It's titled 'Speak Now' and it's based loosely on the song by Taylor Swift. Check that out as well and let me know your thoughts!_  


_AmandaCJY_

_P.S. Just a curious question for my readers: If there was one thing you could change about Harry Potter, what would it be? _


	7. Somewhere In The World

**Chapter 6:Somewhere In The World

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"I believe there is a place

Where fear is finally waving goodbye

Somewhere in the world tonight

Everything's alright"

Altiyan Childs (Somewhere In the World)

* * *

Hermione reached out and placed one hand over his as a sign of comfort. Looking at all the hurt in his eyes made her realize that she had to learn how to let past grudges go, for it was like a heavy weight on both of them, dragging them down into dark painful corners filled with horrors. This war had forced teenagers to be adults and both of them had gone through way more than they should have at the age of 19. She understood that perhaps the situation was out of his control, just like it had been for her.

Draco flipped his hand over and interlaced his fingers with hers. That little gesture from her meant more than anything right now, in addition to the idea that he wasn't alone when he experienced the horrors that replayed themselves over and over again in his mind. Her touch was comforting and soothing and it eased the feelings of loneliness that shrouded his heart.

A rather surprised giggle elicited from Hermione's mouth after a few short blissful moments. He gaped at her in shock; this was a rather different Hermione Granger than the usual stoic one. When her giggles erupted in full-blown laughter though, he wondered if she'd lost her marbles.

"I'm sorry," she gasped in between chuckles. "I'm just laughing at the irony of the situation. I was all ready to hex your balls off last night for coming in and messing up my life and here I am comforting you. What are the odds?"

He chuckled lightly as he noticed a familiar glint return to those brown chocolate eyes. She looked marginally better than she did yesterday; it was amazing what laughter did to a person. However, the blissfulness didn't last long, much to his disappointment, as she quickly collected herself.

He decided now was a good time as any to continue his little speech.

"Voldemort had my father under his thumb the whole time, my mother hated it though, she resented answering to him, but she didn't leave, because she loved my father too much. She kept hoping and praying that one day the guy she loved would come back, and because of her, I stayed. You see, Voldemort liked to torture others, especially women, and my mother was always chosen. There was the time when I failed to kill Dumbledore as he requested and when my father lost the diary that was so precious to him… He chose to take it all out on her." Tears were blinding his vision as they spilled down his cheeks. This was something he never did before, to cry in front of another, yet he didn't feel wrong doing it around her. He knew she wouldn't judge him. As if in response, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Whenever I could, I took the punishment for her," he whispered softly. He heard a soft gasp as he revealed that, before a head of bushy hair obscured his vision. Her arms tightened around him as she gave him the biggest hug she could possibly give. He heard her sobs and was shocked to realize she'd been crying herself.

She pulled away and he noticed the tear tracks down her cheeks. Why did he seem to make her cry every time he talked to her? She searched his face before she looked him right in the eyes and said:

"I'm sorry for being so rude yesterday. I'm beginning to understand the pain that you've been through and how it is, in a way, similar to my own."

He cut her off before she could continue. "If anyone should apologize, it is I. The reason why I couldn't save you at the Manor was not that I was deeply evil. It was in fact, because I knew that if I did, the Voldemort would not hesitate to kill my mother that time. It was a cowardly act, yes, and I'm ashamed for it, but don't think for a second that part of me wasn't suffering when she was torturing you," he said, trying to add as much sincerity into his tone as he could.

She wavered for a second before she pulled back and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

"I understand what you are saying right now, but I'm sorry if you were expecting my forgiveness right away. I sympathize with your situation, because it's what I would have done, but I'm having trouble forgiving you," she said whilst she stared at the ground.

Draco's heart sank. Of course things wouldn't go as he had expected, but at least he got her to hear his side of the story.

As Hermione stared at the ground, a billion questions were running through her head. If he didn't want to follow Voldemort, why didn't he stay after Harry had won? Why did he run then? And most importantly, why hadn't he taken his mother with him if the whole point of submitting to Voldemort was to protect her? Most importantly, why couldn't she forgive him?

**00000**

**Earlier that morning**

Harry Potter was concerned. It was gradually turning into a bit of a habit these days. His current matter of importance: Hermione. After leaving her after her funeral, she virtually vanished off the face of the Earth. He knew he agreed to give her some space, but he couldn't help it. She was his closest friend, almost a sister, so he figured it was natural he'd pay attention to where she was and what she was doing.

Initially he was afraid that Hermione would tear herself apart with grief, but he knew that she was stronger than that and would pull through. He just wished she didn't have to disappear to do it. After pondering for a while, he reached for a quill and wrote a quick letter to her, asking to meet her for lunch. As he watched his owl fly away, he hoped that she was all right.

**00000**

A light tap on her living room window broke her musings. She spotted Harry's new owl just outside. Hurrying over, she opened the window to let the owl in and supplied some treats and water. She unfurled the small scroll and saw a message scribbled in Harry's handwriting.

_Hermione,_

_Haven't seen you in a while. Meet me for lunch at 12pm? It'll be at the muggle Italian restaurant that you love._

_Love, Harry_

She wondered if she should meet him. Glancing back at Draco, she decided that she probably should, it'll be good to get her mind off things. She wrote a quick reply and sent it back. Turning around, she looked at Draco, who was currently observing the television.

"What's this….black box?" He peered at it closely.

She stifled another set of giggles and rolled her eyes.

"It's a television Malfoy."

"What's that?" He now moved on to touching it gingerly with his fingers.

She plucked the remote control off the couch and switched the TV on. He jumped when the pictures appeared in front of him.

"So it's sort of like wizard pictures but with sound?" His voice shone with curiosity.

"Something like that, yes. Listen Malfoy, I'm going to go out for lunch with Harry," she said, noting how he jumped at Harry's name.

"Do you mind if I stay here?"

She hesitated, before she decided that he wouldn't cause any harm.

"Yes, but don't damage anything. You may continue watching the television if you wish," she tried to put a calm authority into her tone.

"Yes, mother," he said with mock solemnity.

"Good boy."

She moved to walk past him when his hand suddenly reached out to grab her arm. She stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Could you just not tell Potter that I am here please?" He was pleading now. He noted her look and quickly said. "I'm not afraid of being arrested, I'll turn myself in eventually, but not right now."

She sighed - an action that was starting to take on an eerily comfortable familiarity - but acquiesced.

"Wait," his voice called out after she had walked a few steps away from him. "Do you mind having dinner with me tonight then?"

"Well, I had breakfast with you this morning, so I can't see why not?" She said sarcastically.

"Good then, so tonight at 7?" The enthusiasm in his voice was getting unbearable.

Hermione eyed him warily, unsure of her reply. After all, what harm could he do now anyway? She had her wand with her and was very, very capable of taking care of herself.

"Fine."

**00000**

"Hi Harry," she called.

"Hermione!" Harry stood up from his seat and hugged her tightly before he pulled out a chair for her.

"How's auror training these days?" Hermione asked. It was her feeble attempt to steer the conversation away from questions about her.

"The usual. It's tiring yet enjoyable in a way. It feels good to be doing something constructive," said Harry, waving his hands in an offhand manner. "But we're not here to talk about me, how about you?"

_And that didn't work_, Hermione thought as she eyed him. He looked so happy right now that she was afraid any upsetting news from her would ruin the moment. She was never one to lay her burdens onto others and she wasn't going to start now.

"It's been… great," she said, her voice rising at the end of her sentence. She inwardly smacked herself.

"Don't lie Hermione, you were never good at it," he shot back.

"Okay, don't bite me. It's getting a bit better these days. I'm trying to move on Harry."

At this point, the waitress arrived to take their orders. After ordering, Harry glanced towards Hermione again.

"What have you been doing then?"

Hermione paused as a certain blonde-haired man flashed through her mind. He had said that he didn't want her to tell Harry about him, but should she honor that promise? A part of her said no, to wait and figure out what Draco wanted to do, yet another part of her was telling her she was a bloody idiot and spill everything.

"Well, I'm having an old family friend stay with me for a while, we were really good friends when we were young, so she's helping me get through… with things," she added as an afterthought. All the while when she was talking, she tried to avoid eye contact with Harry by staring at her fingernails. In a way, she was partly telling the truth, seeing and talking to Draco had helped her start to move on, albeit only slightly.

"Couldn't you have talked to me? I would have helped you get through this," the hurt tone in his voice was undeniable.

She looked up hastily and saw that he was looking at his lap and not at her.

"No, no, no Harry! You're my best friend, and I love you. I tell you everything else, but this… this is something I have to get through myself. Please, understand," she pleaded.

Harry hesitated for a second before he nodded. Hermione quickly searched for a change in topic.

"So how are things with Ginny?" She asked with a smile.

"Things have been great. I'm thinking of asking her to marry me soon."

"That's wonderful Harry!" she squealed. Harry gave her a small grin.

For the rest of the afternoon, they had a warm conversation, not unlike those they had at Hogwarts, before all the chaos had erupted. It helped her escape from reality for a brief wonderful moment.

**00000**

Several minutes earlier

Draco watched as she left the house hurriedly and he noticed how her long brown hair whipped around for a split second before she disapparated. He leant his head against the windowpane. He couldn't leave, not yet at least. He hadn't even gotten her forgiveness yet. He had tried, but she said she couldn't forgive him right now. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling rather frustrated.

_She said she had understood. Why couldn't she forgive me?_

A voice (Was that his conscience?) berated him slightly. _She has been through so much this past month. The horrors took a huge toll on her. Give her time._

Perhaps, as an act of repentance, he should help her move on. Yes, he should help her to understand that he was not who he was at school or at the manor. He would show her that he had changed. Somehow seeing her again had changed him, he wanted to not only ask for her forgiveness now, but to show her that he had a soul, that he could feel, as she did, the emotions of love, pain, grief and loss. But most importantly, he wanted to stay near her, because she had made him feel less alone in this world. She was the one who could help him move on.

**00000**

At precisely 6.45pm, Hermione was staring into the depths of her closet, wondering what to wear.

_This is ridiculous, it's not has if it's an actual date. I don't even like the guy, why am I even bothering about how I look?_

Looking at her rather meager selection of robes, she picked out a dark blue one. It wasn't sexy, not that she would have wanted to be, but rather, it was modest and simple. She changed into the robes quickly before tying her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Sticking her wand into her purse, she exited her room.

The sight that greeted her at the end of the hallway was slightly shocking to say the least. Draco was standing there in a set of dark green robes, with a bouquet of lavender roses in his hand. He handed them to her with a small smile on his face.

"For you," he said softly.

She breathed in deeply. The scent of the roses was intoxicating and sent a wave of calmness racing through her body; she always had a fond spot in her heart for roses. She felt calmer and less lonely now than she did in ages. It was interesting how such a simple gesture did wonders for her being than any other.

"Thank you," she whispered. She hunted around for a vase, before Draco handed her one and she blushed as she remembered how she had in fact threw that vase at him just yesterday. After placing the roses in the vase, she walked out with Draco. He extended an arm towards her and she eyed it warily.

"Relax, I won't bite. We do need a way of getting to the restaurant don't we?"

Hearing that, she reached out gingerly and grasped his elbow. He gave her a smirk before the squeezing sensation enveloped her.

* * *

**_A/N: Here's another new chapter! Thanks for reading thus far. I would like to thank all the people who wrote such lovely reviews for this story so far. Each and every single one touched my heart. _**

**_Search the meaning of lavender roses on google if you like. Click on the first link that appears. There's a meaning behind it and I found it rather sweet, which is why it appeared in this story. _**

**_Oh, and I wrote another song-fic for Harry/Hermione shippers called 'Just So You Know' based on the song by Jesse McCartney. It's rather fluffy if i may say, so you've been warned. _**

**_Thanks for reading again and if you would be so kind to leave a review, I will really appreciate it. _**

**_AmandaCJY_**


	8. Need You Now

**Chapter 7: Need You Now**

**

* * *

**

"And I don't know how  
I can do without  
I just need you now.."

Lady Antebellum (Need You Now)

* * *

They appeared in a forest and she immediately loosened her grip on his suit. He inclined his head to the right and walked away while indicating that she should follow.

"What's this Malfoy? This isn't a restaurant," her voice shook.

He paused before he turned around and walked towards her. She, in return, took several steps back until she hit a tree trunk. This was why he was at her house. Everything came down to this moment. He was going to kill her wasn't he? Paranoia burst through her and adrenaline was burning in her veins. Grabbing her wand out of her pocket, she pointed it at him and questioned, "What are you trying to do Malfoy?"

"Please, Hermione. Just trust me," he said softly.

"Well, you haven't exactly done many honorable things for me to do that," she spat.

She could almost feel the flicker of pain before it crossed his face before she felt guilt. Hadn't he explained his side of the story this morning?

"Why don't you follow me first? Once you have seen what I brought you here for, it's up to you to decide if you want to leave or stay."

She eyed him in the limited amount of moonlight that filtered down from the canopy above. His posture didn't seem to indicate that there was any threat. His shoulders were hunched forward and his hands were in his pockets. To her, he looked more like he was trying to prevent himself from experiencing even more pain. Finally, she gave a long drawn out sigh to indicate her great displeasure in this situation. He smiled slightly before turning and walking off. She followed several paces behind.

Looking around, she noticed that the trees were rather close together, and she had to, on more than one occasion, cling to a tree trunk in a bid to keep herself from falling over tangled roots. The cold wind filtered through the trees, causing the rustling of leaves to echo all around her. Shivers ran down her spine and she wrapped her arms around her body, wishing that she'd brought her cloak with her. This forest was too much like the Forbidden forest; she had never liked that forest in the first place.

The dim light seemed to be playing tricks on her eyes; twice she thought she saw something moving in the shadows. This unnerved her to no end, but the final straw came when she could almost swore she heard a twig crack and a cackle, the one that haunted her nightmares, float towards her. Apprehension was now replaced by a deeply rooted fear and she burst into a run, occasionally flinging her head over her shoulder, as if she expected someone to give chase. A hand suddenly reached out to grab her arm and her mouth immediately opened in preparation to give the loudest scream that she could possibly produce, but she was cut off when a voice said, "Relax, Hermione, it's only me."

She looked up into his silver grey eyes and when she saw that he didn't intend to harm her in anyway, she finally allowed herself to relax. With him around, the things that had scared her earlier seemed rather ridiculous now. Wait, had she just thought of that? Oh gosh, she was starting to think of him as her protector. Shaking her head slightly, she pulled her arm from his grip and murmured her thanks. He merely nodded in return and said, "We're not far now."

They resumed their walk, but this time, he reduced the size of his strides to walk alongside her instead of in front of her. His presence was like a soothing drug to her jumpy system. She didn't know why, but perhaps she was beginning to trust him?

Before she knew it, they had stepped out of the tree line of the forest. She gasped at the view before her; they were facing a huge lake that stretched for miles and above it, twinkling stars blanketed the sky. The air smelled clean and fresh and the wind was reduced to a mere caress against her exposed skin. She allowed herself to drink in the sight, one that she had only read of in novels. Turning her head slightly, she took in Draco's form, he appeared to be enjoying the scenery as much as she did with a small but serene smile perched on his face. They strolled forward and Draco pulled out a small cloth from his pocket. Muttering something, he enlarged it till it was the size of a blanket and laid it out on the ground. Following which, he pulled out a small basket and enlarged it as well. Motioning for her to sit down on the blanket, he pulled out some food and a bottle of champagne. She settled myself onto the blanket and continued to admire the gorgeous scene before her.

When she was a little girl, she'd believed that each star was an angel looking down upon Earth. Of course, she dispelled that idea quickly when she grew older and read several books about it. Yet, the stars made her feel like that little girl again, with the naivety that comes with young age and the feeling of being utterly content most of the time. It was peaceful.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Not tearing her eyes away, she nodded. Subconsciously, she tugged on her sleeves. It was a nervous habit of hers. When she heard his breathing catch, she turned to glance at him. He was staring at her wrist in shock. Realizing she had revealed more than she intended, she pulled her sleeve down, but he was one step ahead of her and placed his hand on her arm, halting her movements. She couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. He fingered the thin marks across her wrist. That action, so gentle, so tender, caught her off guard, and it weakened her resolve slightly. She shuddered and pulled her hand away from his. No, she wouldn't cry. She promised herself that she was going to be stronger wouldn't she? And she wasn't someone who broke promises.

But that person, the one who wouldn't break promises, was a mere shadow now. She just didn't notice it till then. Tears chartered the familiar path down her face. Stupid, salty, idiotic tears. Gosh, she must be turning loony, she was cursing at tears for god's sake. She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand angrily. Just then, warm arms wrapped around her and she felt herself being lifted up before being settled back down into a soft embrace. Opening her eyes slightly, she noticed she was sitting in that person's lap. Somewhere in her mind, there was a small voice that protested at his proximity but at this point, she couldn't really care. She buried her face in his shoulder and allowed herself to cry freely again. His hands were running through her hair now, and she relaxed into it.

She had never told anyone how the war had affected her. Not Mrs. Weasley, not Ron, and definitely not Harry. At that time, putting on a brave front had been the best choice – Harry had to defeat Voldemort and it wasn't a time for her to be a whimpering pile of mess. So she had buried everything deep within her and put on a calm confident visage. Harry and Ron could sometimes tell, after the events at Malfoy Manor, that something was slightly off with her, but she brushed aside their worries by saying it was PMS or stress or a combination of the two. She liked that they could tell when she wasn't right, but she hated it when they believed her lie so easily.

Being alone in her house for the past few weeks allowed some of hidden emotions to trickle through. The entire emotional and physical trauma came back with haunting clarity. She remembered standing in front of the mirror, the sharp razor blade in her hand. She recalled looking at herself and thinking, how do I make the pain stop? The answer was so simple. Just a few strokes and she didn't have to think about all the bodies, all the loss and all the gut wrenching pain. Then, there was the slow drip of crimson blood down the sink.

She had never done that again. She was tempted, yes, many times, but she somehow couldn't do it. She never healed the wounds with magic, but let it heal itself, for she wanted it to be a solemn reminder of how the war affected her. She wanted to be strong, she wanted to persevere, and she thought she had settled her emotions and moved on. Yet, that wasn't the case was it? She had merely ran away, not dealing with it and not talking about it to someone, anyone. The lost of her parents had been the final blow for her, and she had slipped away from the world.

As her heaving sobs subsided into hiccups, she began to realize that Malfoy's body was really warm and lovely; she never had someone hold her like this for such a long time and she rather enjoyed it. Malfoy stopped stroking her hair when she had quieted down.

"Are you feeling better?" There was concern in his tone.

Pulling herself away, she nodded. He lifted one hand and brushed the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. She leaned into his touch and he appeared surprised, but pleased. Looking in his eyes, she could feel and understand that he had changed. The fact that he was willing to comfort her proved that perhaps he still had some empathy in him. The rather serious moment was interrupted when Hermione's stomach unleashed a loud growl. He chuckled as she quickly blushed and looked away. Pushing a plate of food towards her, he said, "Dig in."

Grabbing a sandwich off the plate, she munched on it silently while watching him out of the corner of her eyes. As if noticing her eyes on him, he flashed her a quick smile, before he became serious.

"Would you like to talk about it? It may help," he added quickly.

She sighed and played with her fingers. Should she do it, or more importantly, could she do it? Maybe he was right, maybe, this would all get better if she was willing to deal with it head on. She shut her eyes and stilled the trembles that threatened to shake her body. Grasping her hands together, she opened her eyes and spoke.

As the night grew deeper, the stars shone, if possible, even brighter than before, but Hermione didn't notice this. She was focused on trying to face the truth, to deal with her past instead of running away from it. Slowly, she felt herself heal, to ease past the war and head towards what may be a bright future ahead. She didn't leave anything out, the good, the bad, the ugly, and she told it all to Draco Malfoy. Sometimes she laughed deliriously, and sometimes she sobbed like no tomorrow, but when she did, he always held her tight. By the end of her story, she felt such a deep connection with him that she leaned forward, looked deeply into his beautiful eyes, and kissed him. He kissed her back.

Something in the air between changed that night, but the resentment was drifting away, slowly being replaced by a new feeling, one that filled her with warmth and happiness. Perhaps it was a crush, an infatuation, or maybe it was a pathetic attempt to make herself happy again.

Maybe, just maybe, it was love?

* * *

_A/N: I realise this chapter is kind of short, but I didn't wanted to drag out the time between updates. Hope you enjoyed reading it._

_I watched BAFTA honor Harry Potter with the 'Outstanding British Contribution to Cinema' and Stephen Fry gave this wonderful speech: "_In pages of J.K. Rowling's seven novels, the Harry Potter cycle became the most successful literary series of our time - perhaps of all time. New words entered the language: Hogwarts, Muggle, Quidditch, Mudblood… Characters like Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape, and Voldemort who musn't be - oh damn, I named him. They made an indelible mark in the imagination of millions of adults and children the world over. Could such an unprecedented and astounding phenomenon ever be translated to the screen? Well with a total of twenty-eight BAFTA nominations, and the final installment still to come, the Harry Potter series has shown british film-making in its very best light. Dramatically, dazzling, technically breath-taking, internationally record-breaking, at the heart of the film's appeal, is the fact that no matter how much money they make, and believe me, it is a shi-load… the Harry Potter movies all seem to have been crafted with an attention to detail and the love which bespeaks genuine care and affection. So successfully, inventively, and faithfully, have the Harry Potter movies transferred J.K. Rowling's vision to the screen, that some have suggested, unbelievable though it may seem, the films may actually be better than the quite brilliantly voiced audiobooks. "

_I couldn't have agreed more with what he said. _

_Harry Potter has a special place in my heart. Is it the same for you?_

_Hope you've had a wonderful Valentine's Day. (This chapter is for all Dramione fans and romantics out there!)_

_Till next time, _

_AmandaCJY_


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